


Wanna Get Out of Here?

by Malachite_Knightess



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bartender AU, Cunnilingus, F/F, Modern AU, Nonbinary Ingrid, Strap-Ons, bc its what they DESERVE, ingrid gets dragged to a club and meets thea there and then things get progressively more horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malachite_Knightess/pseuds/Malachite_Knightess
Summary: Sylvain somehow convinces Ingrid to come to a bar in Enbarr. They aren't particularly thrilled, at least, until they meet Dorothea.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	Wanna Get Out of Here?

**Author's Note:**

> nonbinary ingrid rights  
> shoutouts to @bizzybee for managing to guess i was drinking top ramen broth before i finished it  
> here are your winnings, friend
> 
> enjoy!!!!!

Fuck, it was loud in here.

The resounding rhythm of heavy bass thrummed in Ingrid’s chest, and the flashing violet and blue lights were kind of giving them a headache. They very quickly found the quietest corner of the bar they could, slinking into a stool and doing a quick glance around the room. Where even was Sylvain? He had been the one who had dragged them here, saying something about how they were “no fun” and “needed to get some”. They had nearly smacked him, but they couldn’t deny their curiosity or their unfortunately stupid friend, so here they were.

Ingrid spotted Sylvain at a table, chatting up a grumpy-looking guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He looked a bit like a drowned cat, and it made Ingrid snicker a little. Sylvain truly had the strangest standards. They glanced out across the dance floor, looking for any familiar faces in the crowd, but naturally, they didn’t find any. Goddess, maybe they _did_ need to get out more.

“Hey, handsome.” A melodic voice broke Ingrid from their stupor, and they glanced back towards the bar to see a positively gorgeous woman in front of her. She was wearing a maroon button up, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and some slacks, but somehow the simple look worked in her favor. Her eyes twinkled like emeralds in the dim light as she grinned at Ingrid across the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Ingrid spluttered for a moment, searching for something clever to say. Their mouth flapped open and closed like a fish searching for air, and it made the bartender giggle.

“Um… Only if… you’re the one getting it for me.” Yes, Ingrid. You’re a genius. A ladykiller. An absolute smooth criminal. Only if the bartender does her job will you get a drink. That is, indeed correct. They could feel their face flush red, and wondered if they were glowing in all this blacklight.

“Oh, you are cute.” She flashed them another smile, and glanced Ingrid up and down. Ingrid had chosen to wear a denim jacket tonight, thrown over a shirt that fit them in a way that flattered their form. They were going to kill someone if any men hit on them tonight, so they’d been sure to style their hair short, in a way that screamed, ‘I am a lesbian.’

“Oh, uh, drinks. Right. Could I get a margarita on the rocks?” Ingrid said. They weren’t really much of a drinker, but when they’d been badgered into it at parties, they’d found that the most tolerable thing they drank was a margarita. Wasn’t exactly creative, but it got the job done.

Dorothea winked at them. “Comin’ right up.” Ingrid fiddled with their collar, watching Dorothea portion out the drink with practiced ease. She poured the mixture in over ice cubes, topping the glass with salt and a lemon slice. She sets it down in front of Ingrid, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the patrons at the bar before shrugging and leaning over, elbows on the counter.

“So, where are you from?” Dorothea said. Ingrid lifted the glass to their lips, taking a hesitant sip before a much larger good. Fuck, that was good. It went down their throat nice and easy, and was sweet, but had just the right amount of kick to it.  
  


“Fhirdiad, actually. But I’m staying with a friend of mine after… well, not important. But I’m here for now, and I can’t say it’s worse than out there. Much warmer, anyways.” The words seem to flow easier from their lips than usual. Maybe it’s the drink, or maybe it’s Dorothea, putting them at ease. She hums.

“I see. I’m glad you like it out here. Guess all the cute girls are in Fhirdiad, then.” Ingrid laughs nervously at that, and the words leave their lips practically automatically.  
  


“I’m not a girl. Thanks, though.” Dorothea’s eyes seem to widen slightly, but thankfully, she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

“Oh, my bad. What are your pronouns, then? Mine are she/her. Dorothea.”  
  
  


“Ingrid. They/them. Thanks for not being weird about it.” They take another gulp from their drink, suddenly very interested in the salt around the edge of the glass.

“Nothing to be weird about, hun.” Dorothea snatches the lemon slice from the edge of the glass, and Ingrid watches her delicately squeeze some of it over her tongue. The look in her eyes as she gazes at them is undeniably sultry. Seemingly satisfied, she sets the slice down on the napkin she’d given Ingrid with their drink, licking her lips. Ingrid didn’t miss the motion, or the way it stirred something in their gut. They downed the rest of their drink, which was, maybe, not the best move, and met Dorothea’s eyes, no longer sure if the flush on their face was from the alcohol or the way they were thinking about how much they’d like to lean over the counter and see just how clever Dorothea was with her tongue.  
  


“Could I get another drink?” They said. “And maybe your, um, number.” Dorothea laughed. Her eyes twinkled, and the way her lips curved into a smile drove Ingrid crazy.  
  


“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dorothea turned, and Ingrid’s eyes raked down her hips and the way they moved when she walked. She made the drink again, quick as last time, and replaced the old glass with a new one. She grabbed a pen from her pocket, leaning over to Ingrid. “Give me your hand.” She said.  
  


Ingrid did, and Dorothea took it, writing her phone number into the back of their hand. She lifted the hand to her lips, and for a moment, Ingrid thought she was going to kiss it, but was surprised when they felt Dorothea blow on the ink, drying it faster. The sensation nearly made them shiver. Goddess, Dorothea was teasing them.

  
  
“There you are, Ingrid. Now, even if you can’t remember tonight, you’ll have to remember me tomorrow.” Her fingers were gentle in the way they held their hand, and they danced down Ingrid’s forearm, leaving trails of warmth before letting go. Was it warm in here? Ingrid tugged at their collar, and didn’t miss the mischievous smile across Dorothea’s lips.

Things continued like that for another hour. Ingrid chatted with Dorothea, and Dorothea would tease them. A wink here, a gentle touch to their wrist there, a bend down to pick up something deliberately dropped, even. Ingrid was getting antsy. They’d stopped drinking, purely for the fact that it was making them warm enough to take off their jacket and sling it over the stool. 

When they’d sat down again, Dorothea was eyeing them with that look again. Ingrid raised an eyebrow. Dorothea smiled, leaning all the way across the bar counter to reach for Ingrid’s upper arm, which she squeezed appreciatively. Ingrid _had_ been working out, and was probably at their most fit right now. However, this position brought Ingrid’s face close to Dorothea’s, and almost on instinct, they pressed a kiss to Dorothea’s jaw. They heard Dorothea’s breath hitch in her throat, and she leaned back to stand normally. 

“My shift is over in fifteen minutes. Can you wait that long for me, sweetheart?” She purred. Ingrid couldn’t imagine saying anything but yes.

When Dorothea’s shift was over, she disappeared to the back for a minute, before returning with a purse slung over one shoulder. She leaned close to Ingrid, whispering in their ear. 

“You wanna get out of here? My place is free right now.” Ingrid responded with a nod and a feather-light press of their lips to Dorothea’s shoulder. 

* * *

  
  


Dorothea drove the whole way, one hand on the wheel and the other on Ingrid’s knee. Occasionally, her hand would dare to travel a little further up their thigh, only to dance back down. Ingrid was doing their best not to squirm in their seat, but it was hard when Dorothea’s hand would leave little trails of fire on their skin wherever it went.

It only took a handful of minutes to make it to Dorothea’s apartment, but it felt like hours to Ingrid. Dorothea led the way up the stairs to her unit, unlocking the door and allowing Ingrid to walk in first. It was nice, spacious, even. There was a table tucked up against a window with two chairs pushed in, a comfortable, wide sofa, a kitchen complete with marble countertops. Ingrid didn’t have very much time to admire it, however, because Dorothea clicked the door shut behind them both, and pushed Ingrid up against a wall. 

“You’re so cute, you know. I just can’t help myself.” She murmured into Ingrid’s neck, pressing hard kisses where it met their shoulder. She bit down hard enough to leave a mark, and Ingrid can’t stop the gasp that leaves their throat. Their fingertips claw at her shirt, willing it to vanish so they could dig their nails into her skin. They whined, and Dorothea responded by slipping her hand up their shirt. Her hands feel like heaven on their skin, and they toss their head back as Dorothea brushes her hands over their chest. Ingrid doesn’t know how much longer they can take this. 

They flip, and Ingrid is the one pinning Dorothea to the wall now. They have one hand on the wall next to her head, and the other finds her cheek. Ingrid holds her face in place and leans in to do what they’ve wanted to do all night.

Kissing Dorothea is consecration. Holy flame floods their senses, and the light that blooms in their chest when Dorothea drags her tongue across their bottom lip is pure sin. Ingrid breathes Dorothea in, trading lips and tongue and teeth as their hand roams down to her lower back. Their teeth catch on Dorothea’s bottom lip as they pull back to breathe, and the sound that it draws from her is a hymn to their ears. Ingrid is not a very religious person, but fuck, they could be, if Dorothea’s body was what she worshiped.

Dorothea grabs them by the shirt collar, trading quick, chaste kisses as they stumble to Dorothea’s bedroom. They break apart when the door shuts, and Dorothea’s clever fingers undo her shirt quickly, and she sheds it, unhooking her bra as well. Dorothea’s breasts are full, and large, and Ingrid can’t stop themselves from striding over and cupping them in their hands. Dorothea gasps when Ingrid brushes her fingers over her nipples, and it sounds perfect to them. They lightly pinch, and it elicits a moan from Dorothea’s throat, and Ingrid can’t take it anymore. They whip off their shirt, and their hands fly to their belt, which they undo and throw to some unimportant corner of their room. They shed their jeans, too, and it leaves them just in their underwear. Dorothea’s hand finds their thigh, which she gives a light squeeze, admiring the muscle.

“Damn, handsome. How are you this muscular even down there?” She presses an appreciative kiss to their bicep, glancing up at their eyes. The look in them drives Ingrid wild, and the heat between their legs grows.

  
“I, uh, did a lot of horseback riding. Made for good exercise.” Dorothea hums in response, kissing her way down their arm. She kneels slowly, so slowly, trailing heat down their wrist to their hip, and finally to their thighs. Dorothea kisses tantalizingly close to their core, and they can’t help gasping a little, losing their hands in Dorothea’s hair. She rewards a light tug of her hair with a bite to Ingrid’s inner thigh, and they groan at the sensation.

“Stop teasing me.” They whine. Dorothea’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at them, and she mouths at their folds through their soaked panties. The sensation causes electricity to shiver down their legs, and air hisses through their teeth as they toss their head back. Dorothea pulls off their panties, and presses a kiss to their clit. Ingrid gazes down at Dorothea, who’s watching them with intent as her tongue does tight circles around their clit.

“Fuck, you look really good like that, ‘Thea.” Dorothea smiles into their cunt, pressing her tongue up inside of Ingrid. They see stars. Dorothea fucks them with her tongue, from broad, sweeping licks at their insides, to darting her tongue over their clit, back and forth. Dorothea was clever with her tongue, and Ingrid’s grip in her hair was getting more and more unsteady. 

They were incoherent, a mess of jumbled praise for Dorothea and deep, throaty moans the closer they got to hitting their peak. Dorothea always rewarded them with a broad-tongued lick over their clit when they praised her, and the sensation of her tastebuds sliding over the sensitive skin made their legs shake. 

They looked down to see that Dorothea had slid a hand between her legs, and was rubbing slow, needy circles through her pants on her most sensitive spot. Her eyes fluttered half open, still watching Ingrid as she worked her tongue inside of them. The lust-filled haze in her eyes made Ingrid’s stomach do flips, and it’s almost too much for them right then.

“Please, Dorothea, I’m getting there. You’re so good, sweetheart, you’re so good for me.” They whine, and Dorothea responds to the praise by lapping at the space between their clit and their entrance. She’s just quick enough to bring out the friction Ingrid needs, and the heat in their stomach comes to a boil. They come, legs shaking, hands in Dorothea’s hair, and gasping for breath as they recite Dorothea’s name like a prayer. They lean against the wall to catch their breath, hand braced on Dorothea’s shoulder. Dorothea stands, pushing Ingrid further into the wall as she kisses them. They can taste themself on her tongue, salty and just a touch bitter, and it’s exhilarating in the best way. They kiss her back, hard, and manage to stumble their way forward to bring Dorothea to the bed. 

“Do you have a strap? I’ve been thinking about fucking you all night.” Dorothea’s breath hitches, and for once, she’s the one flushing red.

“Second drawer, nightstand. Lube’s in there too.” Ingrid reaches over, standing up again, and finds the drawer, sliding it open. There’s a few other assorted sex toys in there, but Ingrid finds what they’re looking for, and puts the harness on, dribbling lube onto their hand and slicking it over the toy. Dorothea shimmies out of her remaining clothes, and when Ingrid turns to see her spreading for them, they think they’re going to lose more than a few more nights to this woman if they can help it. They climb over Dorothea, and she hooks her ankles around Ingrid. They carefully press the toy inside of her, and the noise Dorothea makes is music to their ears. Ingrid stays that way for a little while, drawing circles into Dorothea’s thigh with one hand.  
  


“Move, handsome. I’m ready for you.” Ingrid obliges, pulling back just a touch and thrusting their hips forward. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, admittedly, but fuck, did any of those other times matter? Dorothea looked positively gorgeous beneath them, and they kept a steady, hard rhythm just to keep her moaning for them. 

They keep fucking her, but all they can focus on his how pretty Dorothea is. Her eyes have fluttered shut, and her lips are just barely parted to let free the moans and mewls that escape her throat. Her breasts bounce tantalizingly with every movement, and it makes Ingrid want to have this moment forever. Dorothea’s hands are balled in the sheets, and her legs are tight around Ingrid’s waist, as though she can't have them close enough. Ingrid isn’t foolish enough to believe in love after first fuck, but goddess, they could for her. They speed up, and Dorothea lets out a strangled cry of pleasure that tells them they’re doing the right thing. They keep the pace, abdominal muscles and thighs burning, but however sore they’ll be after this will be so, so worth it. 

“Just like that, honey, don’t stop, don’t stop.” Dorothea’s voice is breathy, hot, and Ingrid wants to hear even more of it. They keep thrusting into her, letting their hand slip down to brush against Dorothea’s clit. She gasps at the sensation, and Ingrid sets the pad of their thumb to slide against it with every thrust. Dorothea’s hands pull at the bedsheets, and for a moment, Ingrid thinks that she might rip them, but they don’t stop. Dorothea lets out a series of high pitched, sweet moans, and her legs lock around Ingrid’s waist. 

“That’s it, ‘Thea. I’ve got you. Go ahead and cum for me, okay?” Ingrid personally thinks that they’re not the smoothest talker, but the tone of their voice sends Dorothea over the edge with a few pointed thrusts into her. They slow, leaning down to press gentle, sweet kisses into Dorothea’s collarbone. Dorothea seems a little incoherent, and honestly, Ingrid can’t blame her. Her legs loosen around their waist, and they delicately pull out of her. They shift from their place, taking off the harness and setting it aside to be cleaned later before climbing back into Dorothea’s bed. She smiles hazily at them, her eyes glittering in the low light. 

“That was… _flames_ , Ingrid, that was good.” Ingrid laughs, and leans forward to press a kiss against her lips. It’s open mouthed, but there’s no heat to it, and the afterglow of the situation makes them feel at ease. She murmurs something, and Ingrid leans a little closer, putting her ear closer to Dorothea’s lips. She kisses the shell of their ear, giggling lightly. “Stay, tonight, sweetheart. I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” Ingrid hums, slipping an arm beneath her to pull Dorothea flush against their body. She buries her head into their collarbone, and they only know she’s asleep once they don’t feel her pressing slow, sweet kisses against their skin. 

Goddess, they were so, so screwed. They close their eyes, deigning to not think about it, and drift off to the sound of Dorothea’s breathing.


End file.
